Their Protector: An MC Outlaw Halloween Romance, page 10
Chapter 24 – Larson
I carry a sleeping Caleb into Brynn's townhouse in Brooklyn, which I’ve learned just today is called a brownstone.
"What a tired boy," she says. "He's had a long day."
"I hope he had as much fun as I did," I tell her, pausing when we enter the nicely decorated house. Once I cross the threshold, I realize I have no idea what to do next. "Where to?"
"I'm sure he did," she says. "He hasn't had that much fun in..."
She pauses, and I'm certain she is feeling uncomfortable, having just bemoaned the fact that Caleb doesn't have much of a father.
"...ever?" I ask her, to ease the tension.
"Now don't go getting too big of a head," she says. "I'm sure he's had that much fun with just Mommy at some point."
We laugh, quietly, so as not to wake up Caleb, and I'm glad the awkward moment is gone. I don't want anything to come in between all the things I want to do to Brynn as soon as I put Caleb to bed.
She must be thinking the same thing, because she says, "Oh, yeah. You asked where he goes. His room is right upstairs and to the right. Don't worry about putting PJs on him. He'll fight it off when he's this tired, so better to just let him sleep. Thanks for taking him up. I'll make us a nightcap?"
"I love when you sound so old- fashioned," I tell her.
"Whiskey, right?" she asks me.
"You know it."
I take Caleb up to his room, which is decorated like a scene from the set of the Disney movie "Cars." As I lay him in his toddler bed—which is in the shape of a red car— he briefly opens his eyes, staring at the big poster of one of the Cars characters that's stretched across his ceiling.
"Lightening McQueen," he announces sleepily.
His speech is clearer when he says the Cars' name, as proof that it's one of his favorite things to watch as well as say.
"I love Lightening McQueen," he quietly announces into the darkness.
I chuckle softly. "Good night, little man."
Then he smiles at me, as if in a dream.
"Mo-to-cycle man. I love mo-to-cycle man."
My heart melts, while it also nearly breaks. My chuckle wants to turn into a sob, but I refuse to let it.
I can't let him see me cry. I certainly can't let Brynn see me cry. Despite what I've been through, they need me to be strong. And I won't be able to stick around if I become a sniveling mess, destined to hide in a hovel all the time like the hermit I'd let myself become after everything that had happened to me before I'd met Brynn and Caleb.
Since I met them, everything has been better. I have to stay convinced that everything will keep getting better. It has to, because it can't get any worse. And I have to be strong for this cute little boy and his beautiful mother who is making me a drink downstairs and waiting for me to come have adult time now that her child is safely in bed.
Chapter 25 – Brynn
I watch Larson walk into the kitchen after carrying my son upstairs, and I think I must be in some kind of a dream. If so, it’s the best dream ever and I never want to wake up from it.
"Here you go," I tell Larson, passing him his drink. "It's a Hot Toddy."
"Very nice," he says, clinking his glass against mine. "Very Winter in New York-ish."
"I think that's the theme of our weekend together."
We both laugh. "I had a lot of fun at the park, and I think Caleb did too," I tell him.
"Good. It sure looked like it. He loves those quack quacks and the horsies too."
"I can't believe the day started out so crappy and then changed so quickly," I muse. "Earlier this afternoon I was having to meet with Steven, who got me so upset, but then..."
I trail off, feeling silly again and not knowing what to say.
"Then I made you feel better," Larson says, crossing the kitchen and taking me into his arms. "And I know exactly how to make you feel even better."
I'm wearing jeans, but he expertly unbuttons them and lets them fall to the floor. Then he hoists me up onto my kitchen table and takes off his own jeans while removing a condom from his pocket.
"Larson..." I whisper, nodding towards the upstairs nursery where Caleb is sleeping. "I don't want him to..."
"Is he a light sleeper?" Larson asks back, also in a whisper, as he plays with my nipples.
I can barely resist now, and I lean back to let him play with whatever he wants.
"No," I whisper back. "He could sleep through anything. It's more that..."
I look at him, not knowing how to finish what I'm trying to say.
"You're not afraid that he'll come down right at this moment, but you're afraid to get too close and comfy with a guy in your house right now?" Larson guesses.
I nod. Something like that.
Going to a Halloween party with friends and having a random hookup at a hotel while someone watches Caleb overnight is one thing. But the fact that I have Larson in our house— where Caleb is supposed to feel the most comfortable and safe— is something I questioned before even inviting Larson up.
I know he's a good guy to have around Caleb so I decided in favor of it. But making love on the kitchen table is something else altogether.
"Look," Larson says, pushing my hair back and staring into my eyes. "You have nothing to worry about. I care about you. I care about Caleb. I'm not going anywhere."
"Really?" I ask, collapsing into his chest.
I love how strong and broad it is. I fit in it perfectly and it makes me feel so safe and secure.
"Really," he says. "I mean, I can't exactly stay in New York City forever. I'm going back to New Mexico. But you know I'm always here for you and Caleb in whatever way you might need."
Yeah, there is that little problem of the distance that separates us.
I let Larson resume kissing me, telling myself I'll worry about that problem later. It's enough to hear him say he cares for me and for Caleb. I certainly need that in my life right now.
He enters me quickly and strongly, and my body relaxes, happy to have him inside me again.
"Do you like when I fuck you on your kitchen table?" he asks me, putting his hands on the table while he works his cock up and down and in and out of me.
"Yes," I gasp, feeling a surge of pleasure. "I'm coming. You're already making me come."
"I love making you come," he says, gripping my breasts now as I feel the sweet release. "It's my favorite thing to do."
"That was so strong," I tell him, as he starts to touch my clit. "It feels so sensitive. I think I need a little break."
"Of course," he says, and picks me up off the table. "It just means I've done my job well."
With my legs wrapped around him, he carries me upstairs.
"I'm assuming your room is to the left?" he asks me.
"Have you had enough of a break?"
He lays me down on the bed and kneels on the floor.
"Yes," I answer, happy that he's going to keep the focus on me.
He takes my pussy into his mouth and sucks on my clit and then licks all around, gently yet firmly.
"Oh my God," I tell him, holding onto his head as his tongue makes its way inside and all around me.
He plays with my clit and fingers me and then he goes back to sucking on my pussy until I can barely handle it.
"Larson," I wiggle around in pleasure. "I'm coming. I'm coming in your mouth."
"Good," he says, and I can feel my pussy juices running into his mouth. He licks them up happily. "I'm glad you still like it."
When I'm done coming, he stands up and then gets on top of me in the bed.
"They say the missionary position is boring," he says, as he pushes his big cock into my waiting pussy. "But I love how I can hold you gently and fuck you roughly, at the same time."
As I feel his cock fucking me again, I can't get over how lucky I am. Not only is he sweet to Caleb and me, but he's also fine as hell and good in bed.
Maybe this will actually work. I never would have thou
I try to push the geographical distance, the physical distance— and the fact that he has to run from the law like an outlaw and hasn’t exactly told me why— out of my head and think only of all the good things about him as he makes love to me.
Maybe this is what love is, I think. Who love is. Someone unexpected that sneaks up on me when I'm least expecting it, and refuses to let me go.
I don’t want to get too happy. It’s always when I get my hopes up too much that they get dashed.
But then I can hear my phone vibrating, and I look down to where I left it on the carpet near the bed, to see that work is calling. I guess I’m not going to have any more time to think about my feelings for Larson, or even enjoy just relaxing with him and being with him.
Of course the law firm can't leave me alone for one weekend. Of course they have to interrupt my one perfect weekend. And of course they have to bring a reminder of reality, crashing down into my perfect fantasy.
Chapter 26 – Larson
I take it back about Central Park. Because now Brynn's pussy feels like the best and most magical place I’ve ever been. It’s so warm and wet and welcoming. All the best kinds of "w" words. And wonderful. So absolutely fucking wonderful. Even better than I remembered— which was really fucking great.
I raise myself onto my knees so that I can get all the way inside her. I hold her by her curvaceous hips and let my cock explore every inch of her pussy.
"This feels fucking amazing," I say, as I push myself in and out of her.
She moans and lifts her hips for me, for even better access. I put a pillow under her curvy ass and continue thrusting.
Suddenly it feels so good I feel myself losing all control.
Hold steady, Larson, I tell myself, pulling back a little bit so that I don't come right away. I both love and hate the way she makes me feel weak and out of control.
But then I push myself further inside her again and fuck her like a rabbit, and I know I've got this. Just a few more minutes of pleasure for both of us before we each explode and meld into the other.
I hear Brynn’s phone vibrate and see her look down at it, but it must not be important because she turns her pretty brown eyes back towards me and smiles as I continue to plow into her. I pump in and out, up and down until I can't take it anymore.
"I'm coming," I tell her, feeling a bead of sweat form on my forehead and trickle its way down onto her bare chest. "This feels so fucking good."
As I let myself go, my body fusing with hers, become one with hers, my brain turns itself off momentarily. But as soon as I'm beside her in bed, panting and exhausted, it turns itself back on.
Could this be it? Could I really be in love? I never thought it would be possible to experience anything like this again. Not after everything that had happened in my life.
I put my arm around Brynn and ask, "You okay, Doll?"
But she begins snoring softly, and it's the cutest sound in the world.
I guess she's as exhausted as I am. Which tells me that she enjoyed herself as much as I did.
I never thought I'd fall for a lawyer, or a single mother. But life doesn't always work in the exact same way I'd expect or plan. I know that more than anyone.
I should just go with this. Keep seeing where it leads.
I drift off, into a peaceful and relaxed slumber.
But when I wake up, Brynn's gone.
So I guess that's where this leads. To absolutely nowhere.
I was a fool to think otherwise. But I suppose that’s what love turns even strong men like me into. Weak and pathetic fools.
Chapter 27 – Larson
There's a note on the night stand beside the bed.
I got called into work. It shouldn't take long. I didn't want to wake you. Sorry.
P.S. Last night was hot.
I look at the alarm clock: 9:00 AM.
I can't believe I slept in. That's late for me, even on a Sunday. I'm usually an early riser, preferring to jump on my bike and ride into the sunrise. But then I remember that it's only seven o’clock in the morning my time, Mountain Standard Time. That's a little better.
I scrutinize the note again. Despite the presence of its very accurate “P.S.,” I feel a little bit blown off by it. I have no idea when Brynn went into work or how long she's going to be there. I can't help but think she wrote the "P.S." just to placate me because she knew I'd be upset.
I don't begrudge the fact that she has a job to do. But she'd told me she had taken the weekend off, and this is my last day here. I wish she would have at least woken me up to let me know she had to go. Maybe thrown in a BJ as a parting gift, a peace offering of sorts.
I sigh. Then I head downstairs. Maybe she has some bagels in the kitchen or something. If not, I'm sure that bagel shops abound everywhere in Brooklyn. Even if there's no green chile in the bread.
I soon hear Caleb's voice, but he's speaking in Spanish.
Even though I grew up in New Mexico, no one in my family or among my friends speaks Spanish, so I never had an occasion to learn it. But Caleb's voice sure sounds cute as he babbles in the lilting lyrical phrasing of the Spanish language.
"Hey buddy," I say, as I turn the corner into the kitchen.
"Hey buddy," he repeats. Then he points at me and says "Mo-to-cycle man. Larson."
"Good job," I tell him, proud that he can say my name.
"Nice to meet you," says his nanny, extending a hand for me to shake. "My name is Esmeralda."
"Hey Esmeralda." I nod at her. "Nice to meet you."
Caleb is eating Mickey Mouse- shaped pancakes. A vision of Brynn's naked body spread out on the table jumps into my mind, and I don't know whether to laugh or feel guilty. I shake my head.
"You like those pancakes?" I ask him.
"Esie made." He smiles. "Yum yum yum."
"He likes the Mickey Mouse," she informs me. “And he calls me Esie.”
It appears that Caleb is in good hands.
"I'm going to go grab something to eat," I announce.
"Mommy working," Caleb says.
"I know, buddy," I tell him.
The poor little guy looks as disappointed as I feel.
"Larson come back?" he asks me, looking hopeful now.
"I'll come back after breakfast," I tell him.
"Larson go library?" he asks.
I cock my head at him.
"Caleb goes to story time at the library," she tells me. "He invites you."
"Well that's very nice of you," I tell Caleb. I hope that Brynn is done working in time to go. "We'll see."
"We'll see!" he repeats excitedly.
I head out the door and before I know it I'm on the M-train. The one that takes me to Manhattan and to Brynn's office building. I feel propelled in her direction, to be near her even though I know I can't see her.
My stomach rumbles— I always like to eat meat and potatoes first thing in the morning, or any time of day for that matter— and I decide I'll go back to The Argonaut. That sausage skillet dish I had yesterday was great. I know they had some other flavorful- looking options as well.
And maybe if Brynn's done working soon, she can join me for a meal. She’s probably worked up quite an appetite, having to go in so early on a weekend day.
I look at my phone, but she hasn't texted. I resist the urge to text her. I'll just look desperate, pathetic. As if eating at the diner near her fucking office isn't desperate and pathetic enough.
I'm about to walk into the diner when I see something in the big, open glass window that I just can't believe.
It's Brynn. And she's with a guy.
Steven, I immediately think. But as I peer around the corner to get a better view, I realize it's even worse.
It's Clay Tucker. The Albuquerque billionaire. In New York, at the same time as I am.
Except that, as far as I know, he has no reason to be in New York City. And I thought I did. But Brynn's little note didn't mention Clay.
Nor did it mention that he’d be reaching across the table to pat her hand, as I can clearly see him doing through the window. She doesn’t do anything to encourage him in return but she certainly doesn’t do anything to discourage him either. And then I see them get up to go and she takes his arm.
What the ever loving fuck? I try to tell myself that everything is just for business. She’s always saying how she has to schmooze people. This is just her schmoozing him.
But then I remind myself that I hadn’t even known he was in town or that she was meeting with him today or that she’d have to schmooze him. So now I have no idea what to think.
All I know for sure is that I can't have the sausage skillet today. And maybe not ever again.
Maybe Brynn is playing me. I don’t want to think of that possibility. I can’t believe she’d do that or that I’d be so foolish as to not figure it out until now. But I don’t want to be fucking naïve. I just don’t know if I can trust her after this, no matter what is going on.
Chapter 28 – Brynn
Well, shit, I think, as Clay Tucker asks me to pass him the salt and pepper. This is not at all how I thought today would go.
"This dish is bland," he announces.
I resist rolling my eyes.
"We really didn't have to come here," I tell him for what feels like the hundredth time.
"Your receptionist was kind enough to tell me that this diner is your favorite place to eat," he says, after he seasons his scrambled eggs. "Even though greasy dives aren’t my kind of joint, I figured I'd take you wherever you want, to explain my proposal to you."
I look at him skeptically. And I blush. Leave it to Wanda to tell the firm’s biggest client that my favorite place to eat is this shithole.